


Now I'm a Believer

by Madame (McKay)



Series: The Monkees Soap Opera [12]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/Madame
Summary: When Mags begins paying attention to another young man, Micky is forced to do some serious soul-searching.





	Now I'm a Believer

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1999.

**June, 1968**  


Mags sighed quietly, idly twirling a red hotel token between her thumb and forefinger, her mind turning--as it so often did--to Micky. 

The rat. 

"Mags." 

He was out on a date. With Pansy. The pert little neighbor from down the street. Cute, light brown hair always perfectly coiffured, a perky snub nose, bright blue eyes, a bubbly personality. 

The bimbo. 

"Mags..." 

They were probably having a great time; she was probably laughing at his jokes, maybe even making him laugh in return, probably clinging to his arm as they enjoyed the scary movie, probably clutching his waist tight as they roared down the street on his Vincent ‘52, probably sharing warm, deep kisses that went on and on until she lost her breath and couldn’t think and-- 

"Mags!" 

Mags blinked and snapped her head around to stare blankly at Davy, who had just shouted in her ear for no apparent reason. 

"What?" she asked, and across the table, Mike snickered. 

"It’s your turn," Davy explained patiently. "It's _been_ your turn for the past five minutes, but you've been in la-la land." 

"Oh..." Heat suffused her cheeks, and she bowed her head so that her auburn curls hid the blush. "Sorry. I was--I--" 

"You were thinking about something else," Isabel interjected in a gentle tone. "Or should I say _someone_?" she added knowingly. 

"Nevermind..." Mags mumbled, tossing the plastic hotel aside and reaching for the dice. 

"Would you like to talk about it?" Valerie asked kindly, her eyes soft with compassion, and beside her, Peter smiled and clasped her hand as if pleased by her display of sympathy for one of his friends. 

And that was another annoying thing, Mags thought sourly. Micky was off having a grand old time, and here she was feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel. Peter and Valerie Cartwright hadn't been dating long, so the flush of new love still surrounded them, radiating from them like an almost visible aura. Meanwhile there were Mike and Izzy--whom she thought of as the "old marrieds" of their group--who were so obviously comfortable with each other, so firmly established in their relationship that they radiated "hello, we're madly in love" vibes as well. 

If Davy hadn't decided to stay at home for the evening, she would have been the lone single person, surrounded by happy, loving couples; even with him there, it was almost more than she could stand. She envied them so much; she wanted what they had so much. But the person she wanted it with didn't want _her_. 

"I don't know that talking would do any good," she said at last. "It's an open and shut case. I'm crazy about Micky, and he wouldn't date me if I were the last woman on earth and there weren't any sheep left." 

" _Mags_!" Izzy managed to gasp and giggle at the same time, obviously surprised and amused by her friend's turn of phrase; unlike Micky, the rest of them had discovered she actually possessed a sense of humor--one that could be wicked at times--and she was growing more and more comfortable revealing it to them. 

"Well, it's true!" she retorted. "He wouldn't! And I don't blame him really," she admitted glumly, resting her chin in both hands. "I'm just a drab, boring little nobody. He needs to be with someone like Pansy." 

"Aw, now what have we told you about talkin like that, huh?" Mike drawled, tilting his chair back on two legs and casually draping his arm across the back of Izzy's chair. 

"I know, I know." Mags grimaced and waved dismissively. " _You_ guys think I've changed, but _he_ doesn't. And I still feel the same sometimes--scared, insecure--" 

"Well, that's only natural," Izzy replied, reaching over to slap Davy's hand when she caught him trying to sneak a $50 out of the bank. 

"Ow!" He tossed her a wounded look and nursed his hand. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, then continued. "I mean, you've been repressed for years. You're not going to get over it overnight. Give yourself time. And Micky too. Maybe eventually he'll see." 

"Maybe..." Mags sighed. 

"Meanwhile, why don't you go out and have some fun without him?" Valerie suggested, and Peter nodded. 

"Yeah, that's a great idea!" he enthused, and Mags perked up slightly. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. 

"Well, maybe you ought to try dating other guys," Valerie said with an insoucient ripple of her elegant shoulders. "Micky's not the only fish in the sea, you know, and you might reel in a catch you like even better." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and Mags found herself blushing again. 

"No...I don't think so..." She shook her head slowly. "Micky's the only one for me. I don't want anyone else." 

Beside her, Davy leaned back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm..." 

"What is it, Davy?" Peter noticed his friend's actions and stared at him questioningly. 

"Well, I've got an idea..." Davy began, his dark eyes narrowed speculatively. "I don't know if it would work though..." 

"What is it?" Mags blurted. "I'll try anything! I'm desperate!" 

"‘Ow about you try Valerie's idea and date another guy--just one, mind--and see if you can make Micky jealous enough to realize ‘ow much ‘e really cares for you?" 

For a moment, hope flared in Mags' heart--only to shrivel up just as quickly. 

"No, it wouldn't work," she said dismally. "Who'd want to date me? And even if I _could_ find someone, they probably wouldn't go along with the idea if I told them, and it wouldn't be fair if I didn't." 

"So we get someone you know to do it," Davy replied blithely. 

"Like _who_?" She leveled a sharp look at him. "I don't know anybody except you guys. He'd never believe it if Mike dumped Izzy and started seeing me, and Peter's dating Valerie now, so that just leaves..." She trailed off, gazing at him with a blend of doubt and questioning hope. 

"Malibu Beach's perpetual bachelor at your service," he replied, lifting her hand to his lips in an exaggerated show of gallantry. "When do you want to start driving Mr. Dolenz out of ‘is mind with jealousy?" 

~*~*~ 

Micky grumbled under his breath as he jiggled the front door lock, trying to get it open, but it was stuck again. 

_Great_ , he thought, a dark cloud practically forming over his head. _The perfect miserable end to a perfect miserable evening._

He'd thought he would have such a good time with Pansy; she was everything he looked for in a girl--pretty and vivacious, someone who liked having a good time. 

Unfortunately, it turned out that his idea of a good time differed vastly from hers! 

She had complained about having to ride on his motorcycle because it messed up her hair; she had whined the entire night because he hadn't taken the car instead. She hadn't liked the movie either-- "Robot Monsters From Outer Space!" How could anyone not like that movie? It was great! 

But everything they'd tried to do together had fallen as flat as her hairdo after being squished under a helmet; he hadn't even bothered to try to kiss her good-night when he dropped her off, and he knew for a fact he wouldn't ask her out again. Frankly, he wished he'd stayed home and played Monopoly with the guys; he would've had a much better time, and he wouldn't have missed out on Izzy's brownies or Mags' home-made salsa. 

He had to give it to her--Miss Prim certainly knew how to cook! he thought, his stomach beginning to rumble at the mere thought of some of the fantastic meals she and Izzy had prepared together. 

Finally the lock gave way, and he flung the door open, bounding inside the Pad, smiling as if his evening had gone splendidly. 

"Hey, guys!" he caroled cheerfully. "What's up?" 

Around the table, everyone glanced up and either smiled or spoke a quiet word of greeting--except Mags and Davy, who were looking intently at each other instead. 

"We're still goin with this game," Mike replied, waving languidly at the board where clusters of red and green plastic buildings dotted the landscape. 

"Who's winning?" Micky wandered over and tried to take a guess just by looking at what everybody had in front of them. 

Given that Peter and Izzy lacked both cash and property cards, he assumed they'd had to bow out; Mike, however, had a thick stack of property cards and a pile of money in front of him. _Not terribly surprising_ , he thought with a knowing smile. 

"Take a guess," Valerie answered, but without rancor. Her own pile of cash and property was slim, but she was obviously still hanging in there. 

"The king of finance," Micky teased, trying to concentrate on the conversation, but his eyes kept straying over to Mags and Davy, who were engrossed in whispered conversation, smiling happily at each other. 

_What's going on here?_ he wondered, a tiny frown forming between his brows. Since when were they so chummy? 

"My wheeling, dealing businessman," Izzy said warmly, slipping her arm through Mike's and leaning over to kiss his cheek, which he accepted with a smile. 

"Any of those brownies left?" Micky asked hopefully. 

"You're in luck," she replied, her eyes sparkling with inner mirth. "I managed to save you a couple. They're in the kitchen." 

"Great!" He dashed over to the counter where he spotted the coveted dessert wrapped in plastic wrap; ripping off the covering, he bit into one of the fudgy squares--and the rich chocolate treat turned to ashes in his mouth when he heard Mags giggle at some clever remark Davy had just made. 

Lowering the brownie, he re-wrapped it and placed it on the counter again, his appetite suddenly fled. Why? he wondered, amazed at his own reaction. What did he care if Mags spent time with Davy? He ought to be _glad_ she was enjoying someone's company! 

Leaning against the counter, he tried to pretend he was looking out the back window when in fact his gaze kept straying over to the table where Davy sat, smiling at Mags and twirling a lock of her hair around his forefinger; as Micky watched, Davy caressed the auburn curl with his thumb, his smile turning intimate; Mags' cheeks stained a pretty pink, and she lowered her gaze, then slanted it back up at him as if she were flirting with merely her lovely green eyes. 

A slow burn simmered in the pit of his stomach, and he clenched his hands into fists as he averted his eyes from the sickening spectacle. He had half a mind to march over there and-- 

_And what? Pull them apart? What for?_ he chided himself sternly. She wasn't his girl, and he didn't _want_ her to be. That's what he'd spent the last few months trying to tell her and everyone else who had tried to push them together. 

No, it was a _good_ thing that she had finally forgotten about him, he told himself in the most firm manner possible. It was good that Davy was showing interest in her and that she obviously was returning it. 

It was a good thing. 

So why did he feel so bad...? 

~*~*~ 

It was actually kind of groovy being the center of a young man's attention, Mags thought, watching Davy as he jumped up to fetch a drink for both of them. 

For the past three days, he had played the role of devoted swain to the hilt, and while she felt no stirrings of any more tender emotions than friendship for him, she _was_ beginning to see how lovely it could be having someone who was caring and attentive. Even if Davy's devotion was faked, that wasn't any reason that she couldn't find someone who really _would_ see her as the focus of his world, who would treat her as if she were a precious treasure. 

It was certainly a lot better than constantly pining away for someone who didn't even know she existed! 

That night, they were at the Vincent Van Gogh-Gogh as patrons rather than the entertainment, although it was heartening to hear other people ask if the guys were going to be playing and to see the disappointment in their faces when the answer turned out to be no. Davy had been a model date, and she was finding out exactly why girls flocked to him: when he was with a girl, he was _with_ a girl. One hundred percent. 

Even though Mags knew he was only with her because they were trying to make Micky jealous, he didn't stint with her. He focused all of his attention on her, really listening when she spoke, making sure she was happy and comfortable and having a good time. He didn't appear to notice other girls even when they flirted with him, and when another girl tried to cut in when they were dancing, he'd politely but firmly rebuffed her. 

How nice, Mags sighed wistfully. How nice it would be if it were Micky treating her that way. 

But Micky wasn't acting any differently than he had before. 

The rat. 

Davy dropped down into the seat next to her and handed her a glass of soda which she accepted with quiet thanks. Smiling slyly, he leaned close and whispered, "This is driving ‘im mad, you know." 

"What?" She barely remembered to keep her voice down as she stared at Davy with widened eyes. "How do you know?" 

"Cos if looks could kill, I'd be a pudding on the floor right about now," he replied with a soft chuckle even as he reached for her hand, lacing her fingers with his and gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

"You're joking." She sneaked a sidelong glance at Micky, who was sitting as far away from them as he could get and still remain at the same table, but he appeared perfectly normal to her. 

"Nope. ‘Is lips may be smiling, but ‘is eyes are doing me a mischief even as we speak." Suddenly Davy's dark brown eyes began to sparkle with mirth. "Want to _really_ drive ‘im over the edge?" 

She couldn't help but return his impish grin, and she nodded, not caring what he had in mind as long as it served to needle Micky Dolenz. 

To her surprise, Davy leaned forward--and kissed her. 

It was only the second kiss she'd ever experienced in her life, and while it wasn't from the guy she really wanted, she found herself enjoying it nonetheless. Davy obviously knew what he was doing-- _practice makes perfect_ , she thought with a silent giggle--and she followed his lead, trying to learn so she wouldn't appear a complete idiot. He caressed her cheek, tangled his fingers in her hair--made all the right lover-like moves--and she copied them dutifully, hoping she and Davy were giving the appearance of realism. 

Moments later, she heard a chair scraping harshly against the floor even over the raucous music from the jukebox, heard Mike asking someone, "Where you goin?", heard the low thrum of Micky's voice even though she couldn't make out the words. 

When Davy released her, she glanced surriptitiously around and found Micky absent from their circle; Mike and Izzy both appeared smug, Peter looked pleased, and Valerie was smiling knowingly. 

"Micky has a headache," Mike informed her, his expression admirably deadpan. 

Davy laughed outright, clearly not feeling any guilt about needling his friend. "Does ‘e indeed?" 

Mags darted an uncertain glance between Mike and Davy. "Is...Is that good? I mean, what if he gets mad, and this whole thing backfires?" 

"Micky _is_ mad," Mike replied calmly. "He's furious. He just hasn't figured out what he needs to do about it yet." 

Davy grinned cheekily. "Yeah, I guess the truth's taking longer than we thought to sink through all those curls." 

"Are you sure it's a good thing he's so mad...?" she repeated hesitantly. The last thing she wanted was to alienate him entirely. 

"Trust us," Valerie said, reaching out to pat Mags' hand comfortingly. "It's good for him. Once he realizes he's angry because he's jealous, he'll start chasing after you himself." 

"I hope you're right..." Mags said softly, feeling a ripple of doubt sweep over her. 

But, she thought with a silent sigh, if he did get mad and decide never to speak to her again, it couldn't hurt any more than being so close to him day after day and knowing he didn't care anything for her at all. She really didn't have anything to lose. 

With that in mind, she pushed all thoughts of Micky out of her head for the moment and concentrated on having a good time, but a little voice in the back of her head kept quietly sighing and wishing that it were Micky at her side instead of Davy. 

~*~*~ 

The evening breeze was cool enough to bring chill bumps to Micky's bare skin, and he shivered and moved a little closer to the huge bonfire they'd built, reaching for the tee shirt he'd abandoned amid the clutter of beach towels earlier so he could pull it on again. 

Overhead, the inky sky was liberally dotted with stars; the ocean provided a peaceful rhythmic background roar; the birds had sought shelter for the night, and most people had called it a day, returning to their homes for dinner. The group had the beach pretty much to themselves, and since they'd already spent most of the afternoon swimming and playing volleyball, things were beginning to settle into a quiet lull. 

Peter and Valerie had gone off to take a leisurely stroll by themselves, and Davy and Mags had disappeared as well; Micky didn't even want to _think_ about where they were or what they were doing. The image of Davy kissing Mags at the Vincent a few nights before still burned in his brain, making his stomach clench every time the memory popped up unbidden. 

He didn't know why he was reacting so strongly. Was he so selfish that even though he wasn't interested in her himself, he didn't want Mags to find happiness with anyone else? She had a right to be with whomever she wanted--even though he thought dating Davy was the biggest mistake of her life! 

That was it--he knew Davy's track record of dating a girl for a little while, then drifting away, and he didn't want to see Mags hurt when he finally dumped her. She was so inexperienced; she'd probably be devastated, and she didn't deserve to suffer like that. Maybe he should say something...try to warn her... 

The wind shifted, blowing smoke from the fire into his eyes and making him cough, so he scooted around to get away from it, putting himself closer to Mike and Izzy who were still by the fire but might as well have been a million miles away since they were completely wrapped up in their own little world. 

Micky sneaked a sidelong glance at them; Izzy was sitting between Mike's knees and leaning against his chest, and Mike had wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as they talked quietly. As he watched, Micky could see Mike's relaxed expression--a rare sight--and how content and happy Izzy appeared as she lounged in Mike's embrace. Micky envied the rapport they seemed to share, and he wished, not for the first time, that he could find someone whom he could grow that close to, who would love and understand and accept him the way Izzy and Mike did each other. He wanted that kind of closeness for himself... 

He was lonely. 

There. He had to admit it. He was lonely, and seeing his three friends so happily paired off was only increasing his sense of isolation and making him feel even _more_ lonely than ever before. 

And the worst thing about it, every time he tried to find a girl who might fill the aching emotional void in his life, she turned out to be someone who didn't suit him after all. Just like Pansy. Just like a string of other girls he'd gone out with a couple of times and then never seen again because he discovered the match he had thought would be so perfect was just another illusion. 

With a mournful sigh, he drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on one knee as he stared into the dancing flames; lost in melancholy thought, he didn't even realize that Izzy had moved to sit next to him until he felt her gentle touch on his arm. Startled, he glanced up at her to see her watching him with compassion in her dark eyes. 

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. "Or do I even need to ask?" 

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, trying to infuse his voice with its usual chipper tone, but even to his own ears it fell miserably flat. 

Izzy just gave him The Look--the same Look he'd always gotten from Mike whenever he tried to avoid a serious discussion and which he was giving Micky now from behind Izzy--and Micky mentally threw up his hands in resignation. If either of them individually started in on him, his chances for holding out were slim, but with both of them obviously prepared to tag-team him, he might as well fold like a card table now and spare himself the energy of trying to deny it. 

"Nice try," she said. "Now tell the truth. Something's bugging you. What is it?" 

Shrugging slightly, he stared at the fire again, unsure how much he wanted to admit even to her. 

"I dunno..." He began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I guess I just feel like a fifth wheel tonight. I mean, this is the first time I realized that all my friends have someone--except me." 

"It doesn't have to be that way," Izzy said, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "There's a lovely young woman who'd love to be with you if you'd give her a chance." 

"Oh, yeah? Where?" he snorted derisively. "I haven't found her yet, that's for sure!" 

"Maybe that's because you haven't been looking hard enough," she replied cryptically. "Or in the right places." 

Shaking his head, he gave her a lopsided smile. "This isn't about _Mags_ again, is it? Geez, Izzy--I told you ages ago I wasn't interested in her." 

"I know what you said," she said amiably. "I just think you need to reconsider if you really mean it or not." 

He gaped at her, surprised by her words. What if...? 

"Well, even if I did, it's too late," he countered, offering a token protest because he felt obligated to. He had always denied interest in Mags, so long and so often that it was habit...but sometimes...sometimes habits were meant to be broken... 

"Because of Davy?" Izzy quirked an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't let that stand in my way if I were you." 

"What? I couldn't go behind his back like that--!" 

"Micky, I really don't think this would cause a giant rift in your friendship," she interrupted gently. "I think Mags is just testing her new wings with someone safe." 

"Davy? Safe?" He snickered, and she punched his shoulder. 

"He's a perfect gentleman, and he genuinely likes her," she retorted, bracing her fists on her hips as she glared reprovingly at him. "He treats her kindly and with respect--which is more than can be said for _you_." 

Ow... 

He winced, feeling the sting of her words all too keenly. The worst thing was that he knew Izzy was right. He'd gone out of his way to make sure Mags knew he wasn't interested in her, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was jealousy gnawing at him every time he saw Davy and Mags together and the more he was beginning to think that all the accusations of "the gentleman doth protest too much" the others had been hurling at him were actually true. 

"Mick, I told you months ago to get off the fence about Mags," Mike chimed in for the first time. "I told you she wasn't gonna wait around forever, and now you can see I was right. If you like her, then quit tryin to fight it so hard. There's no point. If you don't, then quit whinin and go find somebody." 

"Gee, thanks for the gentle words of comfort and solace, Mike," Micky replied blandly, earning an irritated look from Mike in return. 

"You're actin stupid, and somebody needs to tell you that. Might as well be me," Mike retorted. "Do you even remember _why_ you convinced yourself you weren't interested in her in the first place?" 

Micky paused, taken aback by this idea. Thinking back, he could remember dismissing Mags as a non-entity almost from the very moment of meeting her. She had been a plain mouse of a girl, timid and painfully shy, hiding her true nature behind thick glasses and frumpy clothes. 

Now, the real Mags--the more exhuberent girl who'd been trapped beneath the drab shell--was emerging, and _she_ was quite different! She was funny and fun-loving, warm and exhuberent--and she liked B-grade horror movies. He could remember all too vividly how surprised he'd been to walk in Izzy's house and find Mags curled up on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn and watching "Manos, Hands of Fate" on an afternoon Creature Feature TV show. Izzy had invited him over to pick up half of a pot roast, but lookingback he suspected she had ulterior motives in allowing him to see that. Yet Micky had refused to give Mags a chance, clinging to his past notions of unsuitability instead. 

Why? 

Why hadn't he asked her out as soon as he realized how different she was from the shy persona she'd been lurking behind all that time? Why hadn't he allowed himself to give her a chance after he'd kissed her--a kiss that had rocked him down to the core of his soul, if he were completely honest about it. 

But he hadn't been. Somehow he'd convinced himself that it was nothing special--that _she_ was nothing special--when in reality it had affected him more strongly than any other kiss he'd ever experienced before in his life. 

_That should've been a clue, Dolenz,_ he chided himself firmly. 

"I think..." He hesitated, suddenly terrified. Did he dare make this giant leap? "I think I need to talk to Mags. Do you know where she is?" 

~*~*~ 

But neither Mike nor Izzy knew where Mags and Davy had taken off to. Searching up and down the beach yielding nothing, and with a frustrated sigh, Micky headed back to the Pad, throwing open the beach-side door--only to see Davy stretched out on the couch, watching TV. 

Alone. 

"Where's Mags?" Micky demanded more sharply than he intended, and Davy sat up, raising one eyebrow at him. 

"Next door," Davy replied, jerking his thumb in the direction of Izzy's place. "She wanted to get cleaned up." 

Micky turned as if to leave, but then he stopped, casting a look that was half-doubtful, half-guilty at Davy. 

"Um...Can I ask you something?" he asked hesitantly, moving to stand near the back of the couch. 

Davy gave him a questioning look, but nodded, and Micky glanced down at the floor, trying to think of how to say what he wanted to say. 

"Look, man, I know you've been seeing Mags lately, but..." he trailed off, feeling like a first-class heel for trying to horn in on one of his best friend's girl, but at the same time, he felt that since he'd decided on his course of action, there wasn't any going back. "Well, I wanted to know if...I mean, are you...? You're not...you're not like really hung up on her or anything, are you?" 

Davy remained silent for a long moment, regarding Micky at length, his dark eyes somber. "Micky," he began quietly, his tone more serious than anything Micky could remember hearing from him before. "Mags is a sweet girl, and I like ‘er a lot. We've ‘ad a good time together the past few days, and I enjoy being with ‘er. But no, I'm not ‘ung up on ‘er. She's not my type, and I'm not the one she really wants to be with." 

"So...no hard feelings?" Micky asked hopefully. 

"Definitely not!" Davy exclaimed, flashing a charming grin at his friend, and Micky found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

"Great!" He spun around and bounded towards the door, pausing only to call over his shoulder, "Catch you later!" 

~*~*~ 

When he reached Izzy's front door, Micky stopped dead, his stomach clenching up in tight knots as he raised his fist to knock. Did he really want to? Was this the right thing to do? What if he was acting too quickly? What if he didn't really want to be with Mags after all? 

So many doubts, so many questions...And only talking to Mags would provide any answers. 

Steeling himself, he knocked firmly, the knots coiling tighter as he waited for an answer. After what seemed like forever, he heard light footsteps in the hallway, heard the locks turning, and then Mags opened the door, her questioning expression dissolving into shock when she saw him standing there. Dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, her auburn curls still damp from her shower, she looked deliciously touseled, and he wondered how he'd ever been so blind not to see her as she really was--both inside and out. 

"Micky..." She looked him up and down, retreating behind a neutral mask. "What are you doing here?" 

"I...wanted to talk to you," he said hesitantly. "Can I come in?" 

"Sure." She shrugged insouciently and moved aside so he could walk past her. 

Once they were in the living room, he perched on the edge of the couch, beating a nervous, erratic rhythm on his knees which he forced himself to stop as soon as he realized he was doing it. Meanwhile, Mags curled up in one of the end-chairs and, leaning her cheek on her fist, regarded him coolly. 

"Look, I know things have been pretty weird between us," he blurted out, mentally kicking himself for being so blunt, but his instincts told him this wasn't a time to hold anything back; that has been his problem all along, and if he hid his feelings now, he would lose his chance. "I'm not proud of how I've acted," he admitted quietly. "I've been playing with your feelings, and I didn't mean to, but the only reason I can give you to explain is that I've been confused." 

"Confused about what?" she asked, her attention suddenly seeming to focus sharply on him as if the rest of the world had abruptly disappeared. 

"About--about how I feel," he said, feeling the words clog in his throat. 

For one brief moment, he sympathized with Mike, suddenly understanding how difficult it is to say things sometimes, especially really important things--the things you most ought to say. Silently he resolved never to nag Mike about being an emotional clam again. Telling Mags the truth, admitting how he felt about her was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. 

"I've been unfair to you," he said at last, gazing down at his clasped hands. "When we met, I assumed you were nothing more than a shy, inhibited, boring girl that I had nothing in common with. I've ignored how much you've changed and grown over the past few months--" 

"How much I've become the real me again," she interrupted gently. "This is how I was years ago. The girl you met was a mask I hid behind to keep from getting hurt." 

He jerked his head up, staring at her in shock as her words to him at the beach--her accusations that he was hiding from his friends behind a clown mask--came flooding back to him. She understood...He'd felt that she did that day at the beach, but now he knew for sure. She understood him. 

"You're different," he said at last. "And I haven't let myself see that. I don't know why--maybe I was scared of getting hurt again after losing Eddie. You were right when you said I'd been shielding myself from people, you included. But I thought about what you said...and I talked to Mike...He helped a lot...I realized I've been missing out on a lot that way..." 

He dared to sneak a glance at her, and he saw that her face was completely somber, her dark green eyes boring into his as she waited for him to continue. 

"I've been thinking that maybe..." He paused, suddenly terrified at what he was about to say. 

What if she'd gotten tired of waiting and had decided to move on? What if her feelings had changed? 

"Well, what I'm trying to say," he began again, clearing his throat awkwardly. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm real sorry that I've treated you like you're still the same girl you were when you got here, and I'm sorry I've kept on pushing you away even after--even after that kiss--" 

Another sidelong glance showed him that her cheeks were flushed with color, and he couldn't repress a slight smile. She remembered. That was a good sign. 

"It was stupid of me," he said matter-of-factly. "And I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do to make up for lost time, but is it too late to start over?" he asked hesitantly, hope lighting up his eyes as he lifted them to meet hers. 

"You mean..." Mags glanced down at the floor, gazing at it as if it held the mysteries of life. "Friendship?" 

"Well..." He let out a nervous chuckle. "I had something a little more than friendship in mind..." 

"Romance?" she asked, her voice soft and shy. 

"Yeah...Maybe...I think--I think it could be good between us," he said, rising slowly to his feet. Moving to her chair, he knelt down in front of her, not quite daring to touch her. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the worst, he forced himself to ask the tough question. "I think I'd like to try. What do _you_ want?" 

She remained silent for an eternity while he waited, alternately feeling his skin grown hot and cold as his mind raced, throwing scenes of her smiling and throwing herself into his arms as well as of himself crashing and burning horribly at him. 

"You hurt me, Micky," she said at last, her voice quiet and without inflection. "You pushed me away, ignored me, made me think you didn't care if I even existed--" 

He closed his eyes, a cold iron weight sinking in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't interrupt. Whatever she said, he knew he had it coming. 

"All I wanted was for you to notice me," she continued, still not looking at him. "And when you kissed me..." There was a tell-tale hitch in her throat that made tears prickle his own eyelids. "When you kissed me, I thought you were finally going to give me a chance, but then you pushed me away again." 

Finally she raised her head, and he saw steely determination in her eyes. 

"When I started seeing Davy, I was just trying to make you jealous in hopes that you would finally notice me," she admitted, and he felt his lower jaw drop slightly in surprise. 

That thought had never occured to him! But maybe if she were willing to enact such a ruse, that meant her feelings hadn't completely died... 

"But I learned something from him," she continued in a calm but firm tone. "I learned how lovely it is to be treated like I'm something special, like I'm the center of someone's world. Like he thinks I'm the most beautiful, perfect girl in the world. I like it, Micky, and I don't see any reason why I should settle for less. I'm worthy of being treated that way. Every girl is. And if you can't do that, then I don't want to be with you, and I'll find someone who _can_." 

Reaching out tentatively, Micky covered her hands with his own, relieved when she didn't pull away. "You're right," he agreed, fixing her with an uncharacteristically somber look. "You deserve to be treated like that, and I'm sorry I've been so stupid." 

He paused, sucked in a deep breath, mentally bracing himself for what he was about to reveal. "I care for you, Mags. A lot. I dunno, I might be a little in love with you already. I don't know for sure, but I want to find out. Maybe I don't deserve a second chance, but I want it. Will you give me one?" 

Suddenly she snatched her hands free, and for one horrifying instant he thought he'd lost, that she was rejecting him once and for all--and then he found himself sprawled flat on his back on the floor with Mags straddling him, her warm, soft lips seeking his. Quickly he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him as he returned the kiss eagerly, joy exploding in his chest until he felt as if he wouldn't be able to contain it. He wanted to jump up and run up and down the beach; he wanted to shout the good news from the rooftops; he wanted to lie there and kiss her forever. 

"Does that answer your question?" she asked when she pulled away from him at last, her voice suspiciously watery. 

"Gee, I dunno," he replied, grinning cheekily at her; he was happier than he had been in ages, and he knew without a doubt that he'd done the right thing. "I felt a little ambiguity there, Mags. Maybe you'd better try to tell me again." 

It could have been minutes or hours later when the front door slammed shut and footsteps sounded in the hallway, immediately followed by Izzy's triumphant cry. 

"HAH! It's about time!" she shouted. 

Reluctantly, Micky untangled himself from Mags and propped himself up on one elbow, staring quizzically at Mike and Izzy, who were standing in the doorway. Mike was regarding the couple on the floor with amusement, but Izzy was positively gleeful. 

"About time for what?" Micky asked. "For me to figure out I've fallen for Mags?" 

Beside him, Mags threw her arms around him, hugging him until he wondered if he was going to be able to keep breathing. 

"No," Izzy replied, shaking her head as her grin turned smug. "For _us_ to barge in on _you_!"   



End file.
